


It's Beginning...

by billys_consulting_flatmates



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Fluff, M/M, christmas ficlet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-18
Updated: 2015-12-18
Packaged: 2018-05-07 10:09:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 763
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5452835
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/billys_consulting_flatmates/pseuds/billys_consulting_flatmates
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A new beginning to an old tradition.</p>
            </blockquote>





	It's Beginning...

It was the quiet beat of 'It's Beginning to Look A Lot Like Christmas' echoing up through the floor from Mrs Hudson's kitchen which woke Sherlock. He slowly drifted back to consciousness until he became aware of a heartbeat under his cheek and an arm wrapped loosely around his waist, holding him in place. A blanket lay over him keeping most of the morning chill at bay.

Mrs Hudson was shuffling around her kitchen, the carols doing nothing to hide the unmistakable sound of the pantry door closing with a snap. She would be up the stairs soon bringing along with her three cups of tea and that awful festive music which didn't seem to be as bad this year.

The television was still on, the menu open for A Christmas Carol and shining brightly from where it had been left when they fell asleep last night. Sherlock gazed at it for a moment with a slight frown. The movie itself had been awful, predictable and dull but John seemed to have enjoyed it and Sherlock had found himself unable to complain from his place on the couch during the movie.

He found himself just as unwilling to move from his position now, warm and safe as he felt the chest beneath him rising and falling gently in sleep. His eyes closed as he focused on the sensation, his head rising and falling along with it, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

In truth he found it hard to believe, even now, that any of what he was experiencing was real. After the past few years it seemed almost impossible. This holiday season was different compared to so many others, especially last years Christmas. It was unlike any other Christmas Sherlock had ever experienced. He normally ignored the holiday, found it to be a waste of time and money, just a ploy for people to spend money on people they didn't like as they preached about family and peace. The music, the parties, the atmosphere which choked his beloved London every year had set his teeth on edge.

And yet, only a couple of years ago he had been co-hosting a Christmas party where people drank and exchanged presents and he had even played a carol or two. Of course, it had only happened the once and he hadn't enjoyed a single second of it, or maybe only a handful of seconds when John had seemed so impressed with the basic performance he had given. But other than that the night had been a waste of time and effort.

And okay so the next Christmas had left him feeling lonely and miserable and he may have imagined what it would have been like if he had been home, back at another awful party surrounded by people he saw every week. And they would be alive and safe and well and laughing and joking and John would be smiling, his eyes shining in the dim lighting.

But at least they had all been alive even if he was alone and left holding on to the memory of one bad night.  
He wasn't willing to dwell for long on last Christmas. Between Magnussen, Mary and John it had been a fairly unpleasant day, made even more so by being dragged back to his parents house and fussed over.

It was different now though. More than he had thought possible. He opened his eyes and glanced around the room once more before he slowly shifted so he was resting his chin where his cheek had been pressed and looked up.

John was peaceful in sleep, the lines carved into his face by the harsh hurdles life had thrown at him were relaxed, all signs of stress erased and in the early morning light he appeared younger. His eyelashes brushed his cheeks, his lips were parted slightly and his hair was mussed causing Sherlock to smile. He managed to pull one arm free and he reached up to brush John's hair back, the dirty blonde and grey strands slipping between his fingers and John twitched slightly, leaning into Sherlock as his arm tightened.

Outside of the flat, Sherlock could hear Mrs Hudson leave her flat and begin her slow ascent and he smiled down at John as the other man began to wake, his eyes squeezing shut before he relaxed and blinked blearily up at Sherlock.

'G'mornin',' he mumbled and Sherlocks' smile widened before he leant down and brushed his lips against John's nose.

'Merry Christmas,' he murmured and he actually meant it.


End file.
